Icarus and Selene
by A Sirius House
Summary: A part of a series of seven short stories concerning elements in the Harry Potter world to commemorate the week before the seventh and final Potter book. “Icarus and Selene” is set during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, through the perspective of Remus Lupin.


_An Assortment of Short Stories_

**Summary**: A part of a series of seven short stories concerning elements in the Harry Potter world to commemorate the week before the seventh and final Potter book. Ah, yes, you've spotted the theme!

"Icarus and Selene" is set during Bill and Fleur's wedding, through the perspective of Remus Lupin.

**Disclaimers**: I do not own any characters, nor the universe of the Harry Potter books. Those are the creations of J.K. Rowling.

But I actually did make up the "Wallowwumps", though. It's so amusing to say (well, to me anyway), I just have to mention it. Wallowwump. Wallowwump.

Icarus and Selene

"_So, Jamesy, my congratulations on finally seizing the golden snitch," Sirius's sideways grin graced his handsome face as he embraced a properly suited James Potter._

_ "Another comment like that, Mr. Black, and I'll have your Bludgers hanging over the doorway of our new home," Lily's exquisite green eyes narrowed, but her smile belied the jocular nature of her threat._

_ "I was just saying that you're quite the catch, Lils!" Sirius, his voice strained in a mock-whine, protested. But after a moment's pause and in a loud stage whisper to James, Sirius (perhaps unwisely) continued with an "And looks like you've caught a life sentence, mate!"_

_ James laughed as Lily advanced on Sirius, her wand in hand. Remus chuckled into his wine glass, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun beaming down on the after-ceremony as the melodic sounds of "Don't hurt me—you'll spoil your wedding gown!" echoed up to the serene sky…_

A gentle squeeze of his hand brought Remus back to the present. His startled gaze found the inquisitive yet smiling eyes of Nymphadora Tonks. Her arched eyebrow mocked him like a teasing caress…she had naturally thought he was dozing off during the most exciting words of the wedding toasts….

Remus indulged an endearingly awkward smile back to her, giving her a subtle wink under the shade of the massive ivory-colored canopy where all the guests were seated. Tonks's smirk deepened and her violently pink hair itself seemed to chortled with glee. Remus glanced down at their entwined hands, his pale and calloused fingers stroking over her blushing palm. Only Tonks could bring Remus from such ambivalent fugue. Only she could help him enjoy the present without some piece of him constantly dwelling in the past. She gave him little moments of peace, of happiness even. She was his lodestone, his shining pink-tipped lighthouse. He still didn't believe that he deserved her. He still was afraid he'd hurt her. He still woke up in the gloaming hours, screaming, trying to escape nightmare visions of mauling her to death, or transforming her into a specimen of his condition. Of this, Remus would never utter a word to his beloved. Instead, he harbored it alone like an invisible disease.

It could only be a particular kind of day that bubbled up such memories—and fears—from the depths of the agile mind belonging to Remus Lupin. And indeed, it was a particularly peculiar day. It was a gorgeous day, a perfect day in fact, for a countryside wedding. The sky sprawled in an opulent shade of cerulean without a single cloud to mar the shimmering spectacle. The golden haze of the sun set a drunkenly warm blanket over the wedding guests, comfortably protecting them—if only for a few hours—from the bleak terror and unendurable pain that haunted the world outside this quaint, flickering ceremony of love. It was a day very much like the wedding of Lily and James. However, instead of emboldening Remus with a harbinger of hope for the young Bill and Fleur, the comparison only sunk his spirits deeper. As if watching the glorious final moments of a vibrantly descending sun before the squalor of darkness, Remus somehow knew this transitory happiness was fated to fade. And there was very little, if anything, he could do to stop it.

Mentally berating himself as a jaded cynic, the gaunt man forced a thought of happier times into his mind. Instances of innocence…of carefree love…of living friends… Wistful, it was all he could do but smile in a placidly vacant manner that didn't quite match his eyes while Charlie Weaseley gave another toast to the luminous bride and her wolfishly grinning groom.

Remus took a sip of champagne from the elegant, goblin-crafted goblet in his hand as his curiously honeyed eyes drifted aimlessly over the joyous crowd. Tonks was mingling about with a pack of Aurors (she nearly knocked over an ice-sculpted swan—it squawked shrilly at her for the better part of an hour afterwards). A pair of utterly ludicrous cherubs, garbed only in floating strips of veil, flittered around seeking recipients for the wine and champagne-filled glasses that encumbered their winged movements. Fleur was chattering gracefully with her lovely kin, who Apparated from France mere days ago. Her younger sister, a blushing beauty, was skillfully stalking Harry's very shadow—much to the amusement of Ginny and Hermione. Ron had apparently been craftily hit with a Numbing Hex (perhaps by Fred and or George?) as he seemed to be constantly slack and dumbfoundedly gazing in Fleur's direction. It wasn't long, however, until Hermione slapped him out of it. Arthur was vigorously exhibiting his collection of Muggle spark plugs to an unimpressed, willowy relative of Fleur's as Molly made her way over to hug the bride. The tiara of Fleur's silvery head caught some sunlight and gleamed directly into Remus's gaze, momentarily blinding him. He turned away, ineffectively rubbing the offended eye.

"Have you got a Wallowwump infection? Don't feel bad; it could happen to anyone. They are rather clever creatures, you see," an oddly dislocated voice floated up behind Remus.

"Huhmm—a what, sorry?" Remus, painfully confused, inquired. He blinked voraciously, craving optical relief, until he noticed Luna Lovegood (clad in a lemon-colored dress complete with lemon-shaped shoes) standing right beside him.

The young witch smiled serenely, "Fret not, professor. There's a cure. Given enough time, there's always a cure."

"Well, I—thank you, Luna, for such advice. But you know, you don't have to call me professor, dear. It's been a bit now since I've taught at Hogwarts."

"Ah, but you're still teaching, aren't you, professor? The walls of a classroom don't define the curriculum," she smiled again, dreamily twiddling a glass of pumpkin juice in her hands.

Remus took a moment to look at this girl, whom he knew briefly as his pupil and even less so as Harry's and Ginny's friend. She wasn't perturbed by the sudden pause—in fact, she seemed oblivious to it completely. Humming a new little ditty by the Weird Sisters, Luna's wide eyes looked straight up into the sky, as if she were having a staring contest with the sun. Remus felt inclined to bet on Luna as the victor.

"How has your holiday been so far, Luna?" Remus politely inquired. There was something about this strange, sage-like child that induced a concoction of pity, empathy, curiosity, and…something else he couldn't quite touch on within him.

"Petrifying. A family in my village was murdered a fortnight ago. Perhaps you know the area? Stoatshead Hill isn't too far from here," she said, her eyes now to the ground as if entranced by the windswept blades of grass.

Taken aback by such bluntness from someone so young, Remus managed to offer a "My God, I'm sorry" in the midst of choking on his champagne.

"As am I. We live in scary times, professor. Sometimes it's an ordeal just to wake up, for fear of lurking tragedy."

"Indeed," Remus replied as something hard and lump-like grew in his throat. He deduced this sensation was unrelated to the champagne-choking incident. Images of lost loved ones reeled through his mind, tormenting him.

"But then," Luna continued, seemingly unaware of Remus's strong reactions, "if you succumb to that fear, professor, what's the point of doing anything? Of living, even? You only prove that you are actually your own mortal nemesis…you are your own downfall…"

"It is wise then to live your ideals? To choose your enemies rather than let fear choose for you?" asked Remus softly, more to himself than the girl with misty eyes standing next to him.

"Yes. My enemies are heliopaths. And Death Eaters, I suppose." Luna smiled, once again, at Remus, before excusing her leave. "I think I see Ginny over there. She is quite nice to talk to. Enjoy the weather, Professor Lupin."

Without further ado, Luna set off, leaving Remus to ponder over the startling discourse.

He peered into the half-full glass of champagne, watching the distorted golden figures dance in the distance. Spinning, weaving, laughing, surviving…

"Wotcher, darling," thin arms from behind wrapped around his waist.

Remus swiftly turned around, embracing Tonks in a passionate kiss.

Acceptance. That was what Luna made him feel, what she tried to teach him. Acceptance of one's life and its tragedies; from those ashes, Remus thought, burns the embers of healing. Recovery. A new life. A life worth living, perhaps. Smiling slightly, both amused and terrified, Remus looked up at the sun—the same sun that had shone down on him thirty years ago, and the same sun that will know him tomorrow.


End file.
